


Cult Renaissance

by Chinabone



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chinabone/pseuds/Chinabone
Summary: The enlightenment of Light and Dark, transcended by God's hand.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor
Kudos: 26





	Cult Renaissance

**Author's Note:**

> Among the many submitted fan made creepypastas in Mark and Ethan's _[Our Fans Try to Scare Us with Their Homemade Creepypasta](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0d4z3xqntg)_ video, one in particular had caught not only both their eyes, but also mine. Especially mine. 
> 
> _[Cult Renaissance](https://www.reddit.com/r/UnusAnnus/comments/gwezpm/cult_renaissance/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)_ made by _[Miawerz](https://www.reddit.com/user/Miawerz/)_.
> 
> The animation was so detailed and eye-catching that I had ended up rewatching it over and over, most of them frame by frame. Hopefully that doesn't come off as creepy. I wanted to take this quick moment to gush about just how fucking talented Miawerz is for making such a intricate animation, and about how they had pulled me out of my little pit of I-don't-want-to-write. I'm very thankful! :)
> 
> Anyway, the well thought-out animation had inspired me greatly, and it would've been illegal if I hadn't written about it. So, here it is. About 400 words of cryptic fuckery, written at some time between 2AM and 4AM ~~(that's my way of saying it's potentially incoherent and bad)~~ and Unbeta'd.
> 
> Please enjoy!

In Life and Death, there is God and his servants. He who controls the hands of time controls _Fate_ , and everything in between. He who holds the hands of those who punish and the hands of the weak, destined to serve by Eternity’s side.  
  
The path of Balance and Chaosーof He who watches the scaleーis long, excruciating, agonizing. It is pain, and it is devotion. It is pleasure, and it is unloyal.  
  
The Grandfather’s hand ticks and tocks and ticks and tocks, for till death do us part in the claws of Eternity and the palm of Fate. They chant their song, the hymn of kin, for opposites whose mortals befall like sins.  
  
The scale is without Balance, so Chaos is gone. Light and Dark think, _“what could go wrong?”  
  
_ Dark and Light are bound to freedom, although freedom is fake, therefore instead of freedom, they're bound to Fate.  
  
God’s hand plays with the hourglass’ sand, and the clock chimes _tick, tock, tick, tock.  
  
_ Mark and Ethan are bound to Fate, and the scale is now even. Balance is back, and Chaos comes with it.  
  
The Light and the Dark, and amongst them comes Fate, the hand that binds.  
  
Eternity’s touch is heavy, a crushing pressure made to uncomfort. Eternity’s fingertips brush where one should suffer. Deep into the mind and deep into the heart where one’s mortality ebbs and flows, the essence of Life runs red and hot, just as Death runs black and cold.  
  
A sigil is murmured upon pale skin and Ethan screams in peril, but the hand of Eternity reaps him of his cry; it mutes his voice and it sucks him dry. His skin burns from the ash of the hourglass as it implants itself in the back of his hand. When he struggles to fight against Eternity, his eyes cloud from the soot of immoral beginnings and his mortal soul is shied away.  
  
The Grandfather’s hand strikes zero, and there’s a ringing in Mark’s ears. The last layer of wax, gold and sickening, silences his fear. The ash is called again, and the hourglass is burned onto his forehead. The veins of God crawl up his face, and his eyes shine blankly with the last breath of sand that drips and wastes away.  
  
 _“What will happen when the clock stops?”_ _They_ inquire, the ones who hold the hands of those who punish and the hands of the weak, destined to serve by _Their_ side. _“Let this be a message…”  
  
_ _Memento Mori._  
  
 _The clock ticks on._


End file.
